


Hypnagogia

by heckmate



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Updated weekly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 08:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14421954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckmate/pseuds/heckmate
Summary: Her plans for the survivors are not over. In fact, they have only just begun.





	1. Rings

It all started with the rings.

No one noticed them at first. They were much too dispersed and much too small for anyone to see. The survivors, busy with their own matters, would overlook them as they'd overlook a single blade of grass.

But, as with blades of grass, if enough of them are present, they become much more noticeable.

The rings were stark against the dark flooring of the forest. Silver and shiny, they absolutely littered the floor, laying innocently enough atop the dead pine leaves and dirt.

"Ya know, I think I saw one or two of those things when I was choppin' wood yesterday," Woodie said, finally breaking the silence. "Didn't mention it, though. Didn't think it was important. But there's a lot of them… they have to be here for a reason, eh?"

"Could they be toys?" Webber suggested, bending down to pick one up. Everyone held their breath, but when Webber rose to his feet still in one piece, the collective sighs of relief filled the air. "We could try giving one to the pig king?"

"Well, I, for one, have never seen useless rubbish laying about in the open," Maxwell snapped bitterly. "It's usually buried beneath the ground or hidden in a tumble weed. Why would a new trinket suddenly litter the floor like that? And why would it appear in such a large amount…?"

"Anyone's guess is as good as any, dear," Ms. Wickerbottom reassured Webber. Then, her voice grew louder, commanding attention.

"Everyone, I know that you are perturbed by the sudden and unexplained appearance of these numerous objects. But for now, we must not dwell on them. Winter is around the corner, and food will become scarce soon, so we must gather as much as we can."

Usually, everyone listened to Ms. Wickerbottom. She was the voice of reason, and the unofficial head of their small camp. But nothing new ever happened on The Constant. The everyday work, dangers, and weather were becoming tedious. They'd long learned to overcome everything that The Constant threw their way.

It seemed they were so bored that they found metal rings interesting. Sad, but true.

"So, what do you think they are?" Wilson asked WX-78 as he picked up logs. The scientist and the robot were on lumber duty that day.

"THEY ARE THIN, METAL RODS MOLDED INTO A CIRCULAR SHAPE. MY SENSORS INDICATE THAT THE METAL IS, IN FACT, THE ELEMENT TITANIUM."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Titanium, huh? Do you know anything else about them?"

"NO OTHER INFORMATION CAN BE DERIVED FROM THESE OBJECTS AT THIS TIME. NOW, SILENCE, FLESHLING, OR I WILL VAPORIZE YOUR EYEBALLS."

The rings kept coming, despite everyone trying to ignore them. They were so abundant that it was impossible to walk a foot forward without stepping on at least ten of them. Shoveling the rings off of the island became a chore that was added to the list, and that had to be done every morning. But it hardly mattered. The rings would appear the very next day, in the same copious amounts.

It was a mystery as to where the rings were coming from. They weren't falling from the sky, or being flung from the ocean like fish. They simply were… there. As if they grew from the ground like plants.

No one could figure it out. No one knew why the rings were so abundant, or what they were used for. They seemed pretty useless, being so small. They were not like the rings that the survivors would find back when they were trying to free Maxwell from the throne. No, these were small, and not detected by a divining rod. They also couldn't be melted down, or fashioned into a weapon or a tool. They just seemed so… worthless. So useless. So strange.

Then came the cubes.


	2. Lights

The cubes did not appear in the same fashion as the rings. 

They came from the sky, falling like gigantic, metallic cubical chunks of hail. And, like hail, they accompanied rain; blinding lighting followed by a booming clap of thunder, then a downpour of cold, needle-sharp rain that fell in sheets. Then, one by one, metallic and about as large as an orange, the cubes would fall to the ground the same way that water did. 

The survivors were quick to notice this, as the cubes were more than frightening—they were dangerous as well. Whoever was not safely beneath the siesta-lean to risked a possible concussion, as the cubes were dense and heavy. 

So they opted to seek refuge in the caves, to wait out the thunderstorms that brought the cubes. But, to their dismay, the thunderstorms came more and more. They could hear it from where they were huddled underground; the clap of thunder, the rain falling like no other storm they'd ever seen before, and then, inevitably, the pounding thumps as the cubes fell. 

But they could not stay in the caves forever. Eventually, food started getting scarce. The survivors would have to take turns to go up onto the surface and gather materials. Wickerbottom ordered that they go up in pairs of three; a different group everyday, comprised of different survivors. Everyone, save for the children, had to participate, despite the risks involved. 

Hazardous as it was, no one ran into any trouble. That is, until Woody, Wigfrid, and Wolfgang ran down into the caves with panicked expressions on their faces. 

"There's somethin' wrong with the sky!" Woodie exclaimed. "There are… strange lights running across it!" 

"Like little bugs running across ground," Wolfgang concurred. "Very strange. Very scary." 

"The heavens are öpening up!" Wigfrid chimed in. 

All of this chaos led the survivors to the surface once more. And they soon learned that their frenzied friends' descriptions weren't a hyperbole. 

The sky was filled with them; thousands of lights running across the sky like electricity through a circuit board; like impulses across the axon of a neuron. Each were running in different directions, but were all traveling in straight lines. If one was to turn from a horizontal to vertical direction, it would turn at a ninety degree angle. It really was like watching a circuit board. 

All of them watched in awe. They stared wordlessly at the lights in the sky for a minute. Them two, then five. Then ten. Fifteen minutes later they were still mesmerized by the lights so methodically traveling across the grey-blue sky, as if it had some hold on them. 

No one was brave enough to turn away. 

Suddenly the lights stopped. They ceased their travel in their vertical or horizontal direction, as if someone had simply flipped an off switch. They were frozen there, hanging ominously above the survivors' heads, stretching as far as the eye could see. 

"We need to run," Maxwell said, finding that his mouth moved automatically. He didn't know how or why he knew that they needed to leave that area and fast, but something inside him urged him to run away… 

But no one listened to him. Maxwell didn't even listen to himself; he just watched with the others. Watched as those lights in the air grew brighter, and, unexpectedly, formed a straight, horizontal line. 

"We…" Maxwell tried again. But no one could hear him. The lights grew brighter and brighter still, reflected in everyone's eyes, making it seem as though their very faces were glowing right along. 

As if someone was closing a book, the sides of the isle began to lift, rising edge from edge towards the gigantic horizontal row of lights in the sky. More and more they rose, until the survivors were almost crushed in between the sides of the island. Rocks, dirt, and trees with weak roots fell into the middle of the crease; the spine of the figurative book. 

But as they fell, they began to grow abstract, morphing into geometric shapes and lights and other strange forms so unlike their original ones. One tree that fell simply turned into liquid and ran into the edge, pooling at the survivors' feet. A rock turned into smoke, and the smoke turned into light. And still, that horizontal line above them grew brighter and brighter, as if it were a primed laser. 

The island began to rumble. No one could move, or scream, or protest. They were simply fixed upon the lights in the sky, shining so impossibly bright. Shining at an intensity that should've long ago destroyed their eyesight, but their eyesight was still very much there. 

The edges along the island began to disintegrate into a very familiar shape; rings. Those titanium pieces rained down on their hypnotic forms, but they didn't flinch. More and more the island dissolved, starting from the edges and breaking up closer and closer to their feet. 

Until finally the ground beneath them began trembling and breaking up, and all twelve of them were sent tumbling into the dark, into nothingness. 

All there was was dust and the void.


End file.
